


Prometheus

by MagentaPixel (orphan_account)



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: AU but it connects to the canon in a weird way, Angst, Angst and Humor, Bill Cipher Redemption, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Doesnt end how you think it will, Fanfic trope subversion, Fourth Wall, Gen, Human Bill Cipher, Humor, I promise, Mystery, Mystery Character(s), Next summer, Non linear time, Plot Twists, Post-Canon, Reality is an illusion, Time Skips, Trope Subversion/Inversion, i think, no seriously, what am I doing with my life, what has my life come to
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-11 19:32:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15322680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/MagentaPixel
Summary: The monsters in Gravity Falls are multiplying, Bill may not be entirely gone, and a figure inside a dream that's unlike anything else might be to blame.But when the world begins to descend into chaos without an influence, can Dipper and Mabel find out the truth behind this mystery before it breaks them?





	1. Another Path

 The forest was like a creature of its own, green and swaying and breathing with each swirl of humid, summer wind. Its eyes lazily watched the slow growth of each plant around them, staring from the irises carved into the broken stems of birches. These woods were still only in the way trees were, little by little stretching up to the gleam of the sun. Growing and blooming in a way few ever noticed.  
Stanford Pines wanted to notice, wanted to watch centuries unfold before him. So many mysteries were here in the deep wilds just outside of Gravity Falls, and he'd uncovered so many. Yet, this place always seemed to tell him there was more, like a magnet pulling his soul back to a conundrum to be solved. It appeared to almost laugh in silence each time he thought he knew everything.  
He smiled, challenged again by a rival and an old friend. It was a game he would never win, but it was fun to play.

  
Stanford knew, though, of the ways that this could possibly kill him, or end the whole world. Any given day could bring forth vengeful ghosts, mutant animals with many faces, or hellish demons that crushed cities like weeds under feet. It still terrified him to remember that soulless eye without any sense of humanity, or sense at all. He couldn't even think the name of that all-seeing monster out of terror.  
These woods played with heartbeats and wagered breaths. The basic nature of the strange was cruel to all who entered, and only now Stanford finally understood that the token to play was his sanity.  
He strolled forward into the shadows of emerald green, knowingly.

  
Recently, he'd heard from terrified residents about a four-legged creature here, which wasn't unusual for the woods. But each witness had told him about the yellow-shining eyes and glint on its skin as if it had come from the water. Stanford pondered the true appearance of what would try to kill him today.

  
Some described gills, but others thought they were scales like that of a dragon. One said it was the size of a man, with a smile as wide as a head.  
Stanford had seen countless horrifying beasts, and was a little too used to a monster's malevolent smile. He expected something he had seen before, or even already written about in his journals in an attempt to catalog such odd beings.

  
There was a path he walked on in his search, a path where nothing grew from his own walking over years, and was surrounded by walls of ivy and thorned blackberries flowering in the summer heat. In the distance, a woodpecker tapped a repeating rhythm and a squirrel timidly skimmed up a tree trunk. The ferns bowed beneath the statute of the old redwoods alongside the small wildflowers caught in a knot of tall grass.  
No tracks made themselves known yet as he continued alone, wandering and looking for anything to signify the creature.

He wished his brother Stan had been here with him, considering how much Stan had learned about finding monsters on their last trek. They'd taken their boat and lived among the waves, traveling to find only the strangest things he could, Stanford more interested in the science of it all but his brother caught up in the mere action of seeing everything. And finding something worth a small fortune, considering that Stan's priorities usually involved money and women.

  
Stanford smiled at Stan's typical antics, but he knew that Stan could easily be one of the most caring people. If Stan never remembered who he was after giving himself up to save the town, Ford honestly couldn't picture what he'd do. The thought of having his best friend lose everything he was hurt more than anything a monster could do to Ford.  
 Suddenly, there was a momentary rustle, causing Ford to keep his guard up. A couple thumps onto the soil resounded, but again nothing appeared. Ford felt a chill, and hid behind a thick redwood tree, peering to see what could possibly be hiding.

  
It was frustrating to see only a second where a running shadow could be seen, but Ford was a patient man. After all, most wild animals avoided whatever humans they were able to.  
It was a mistake on his part to think it was only an undiscovered animal.

  
Soon, the path devolved into ground weeds and curling vines, where beetles and ants crawled around his feet.  
 Now, everything grew thicker and denser, consuming space as the city faded to forest in an unkempt hunger. It allowed for travelers to enter and then suffocated them in a knot of green.  
Ford held out a pocket knife and cut anything particularly thick or thorny in his way. He kept his eye on the trees, some of which had bizarre scratches that didn't match any he'd previously seen. Somehow, despite his experience with almost identical mysteries, his heart's rhythm sped irregularly. As he walked on, the marks became only larger and more jagged.

  
When the ground plants did occasionally clear, he did find tracks. These were typical in shape for many lizard-like creatures, but larger and with the printed details exaggerated. Ford justified to himself that the oddity meant nothing. Science was always about proving a hypothesis false.

  
More random noises erupted from an otherwise mellow background, and they sounded nearer. Ford began to walk faster, turning his head in nervousness. He could feel that this was stranger than strange, that it meant more than a singular new monster. He didn't want to be right considering what he'd seen.

  
Again, the sounds continued, louder and louder. They stopped being scratches and thumps and evolved into howls and roars. The creature had found the scent human, and it wasn't afraid.  
Ford abandoned his goals of seeing and studying, and ran, not caring about whatever spined stems tried to catch him.  
He didn't look backwards, as he could already hear the beast bounding behind him, a predator with a mission.  There was adrenaline in place of his emotions, and his one thought was only on running and running farther, the forest now disintegrating into stretches of green, brown and gray. He couldn't feel anything but his own rapid, panicked breathing, immune to whatever he ran through in the interest of running on. Each step was a leap further and further and even he couldn't tell where he was. Time didn't exist in his mind now, and even the ache from the motion wasn't enough to tell him how long it had been, each second ticking in rhythm with the pants of the lunging creature. There was only movement, desperation, and instinct.

When the sounds of the beast began to emanate from farther away, Ford slowed and gave himself time to breathe, double checking to make sure he was the only one. He wasn't sure why the monster had even left, guessing that it had gotten just as tired as he was. Now, he noticed that the formerly thick forest had evolved into a clearing with newer grass and felled trees, a yellow leaf gliding and falling between a couple wildflowers that grew there. A brook splashed off where Ford couldn't see, and any stones were encased in deep emerald moss, illuminated by the glow of the sun. A little panicked still, he wandered forward and made a few more paranoid glances and gradually let go of his terror.

Now though, he was lost, and checking for his compass revealed that he must have lost it during the run. Going through the same path back would most likely lead him back to the monster again, effectively leaving him stranded. Strolling further into the clearing with nothing to lose, he looked for anything reminiscent of a landmark only to find strangely shaped boulders forming broken paths. Nothing of note or interest piqued his curiosity here, and Stanford wondered if this was the only remotely normal part of the forest. Other than the stream, it was weirdly quiet and empty of any animals, though squirrels in the adjacent trees played and hid. The animals would back away once they saw the grass as if this place was dangerous, scurrying back into the foliage. Were the animals repulsed by the normality of it all?

There wasn't supposed to be something suspicious about a grassy meadow and a sunny day, but Ford then felt like something was staring at him. It was as if the wind pointed to wherever the line of sight was, blowing in front of him. Against logic and against his better decision making, he ran to wherever the source of the gaze was. When he reached it and the wind stopped, he swore there was whispering all around him, and that the world was beginning to collapse into a point of only monotonous silver, sparkling without life or time. A world with two people, two faces, a world Stanford thought he'd ended but now enveloped his being. There was just Stanford, a million forms of nothingness, and a statue reaching out from the edges of his shadow. 

The broken statue's eye was dead, cold and possessed nothing that made the stare of a living being potent. Nevertheless, it stared, it judged, and it remembered.

 

 

 

 

  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Gets a little creepy in the beginning, but not more than the actual show so TW I guess] Hello everybody! Second chapter already folks! Thanks for the support and positive comments, it means so much! I've got the story completed in my head, so I've just got to write it down. Anyway, see you guys and thanks again!

Bill Cipher. Bill Cipher. Bill Cipher. Nobody said his name, but this place screamed it louder than any voice could, and Ford wondered if this was a dream. He hoped, desperately, that it wasn't. Dreams were when Bill appeared, cackling and changing form like an amorphous being of evil, fading into the colors of the sky until every star seemed to shriek with his laughter. The trees painted gray bent inward to surround Ford until they enclosed a space with no escape, growing and bending to the side at unnatural angles. Ford only stared at the cacophony of terror around him, the cyclone budding around him that waited to devour it all. This was nothing like being chased by the monster, but like seeing a nightmare bloom and grow thorns around everything he'd ever loved, laughing and laughing until he couldn't hear himself anymore. He was unsure of his own heartbeat, knowing nothing but a feeling of panic. 

He waited, hoping only for the appearance of Bill to throw the hardest punch he'd ever thrown, only to see nobody appear. The gray flickered between bright neon colors for a moment, then switching back to the same empty, desolate hues. Each step he took was almost like the beginning of a long run only to remember again and again that he was cornered, forgetting each time in a nonsensical burst of hope. 

"Bill Cipher!" He cried to the world of despair around him. "You can't just trap me and hide!" And yet, there was still no one but the same malevolent silence. He yelled the demon's name again, to find no response. When he turned around, another ghostly shock filled him. 

Ford didn't know who the figure was, but they stood facing the trees, tracing the swirls from where the branches had been cut off. They whistled a soft and unnerving song that was unfamiliar to Ford, as a few magpies repeated his song and circled like birds of prey. The person turned, standing in a spotlight of shadow so nothing could be seen of them except a couple glints from a crimson cloak and a silhouette. 

".  
.  
I̸̴̵̡̢̡̡̢̡͔̤̤͓̱̱̯̖͖̲̣͚͚̻̹̜̙̣̥͊̈́̈̿̌͋̈̂̑̎̃̊̇͌̏̆͗̈́̆̌̉̉̔̉͘͘͘̚̕͜͝͞'̢̭̰͙͖̾̓͗̓͡͝m̨͚̥̝̜̫̭̞̬̓̔̍̆͋̅̕ ̷̴̸̷̨̢̛̦̥͈̫͔͚̜̤̭̠̫̝̗̲̞̮̞͖̟̓͋͒̋̂̿̿͗͆̃̿̌̾̉͊͊̕̚̕͟͝͡͠ͅṉ̸̶̶̨̢̧̢̦͓̭͍͈̻̲̣̭̼̞̜̥̘̭͇̜͙̪͖̜̞͕̦̈́̌̑̐̄̄͒̉̔̾̃̓͐̒͌̍̎͂̔͂̇͊̌͊̕̚͘͜͜͝ǫ̨̨̡̫̤͎͕̈̅̋̉̕t̶̺͓̤̼̜̦̟̹̥̤̄̓̀͐̌̕ ̵̷̨̜̮̞̝̜͉̼̻̱̩͇̲͔̺̣̦̩͙̼̖̖̠͌͌̇̽̒̌̏͑͐̓̏͗̆̀̒̓̈́̽͐̇̊͂̚̚͠͠t̷̗̭̣̼̟̤͕̄̔̑̎̓͑ḩ̸̴̸̢̢̨̛̛̛̟̬͙̩̟̲̫͓̮͎̹̰̯̬̯̟̯̥̥̞͓̘͕̹̤̬͆͌̔͗͒̉́͗̎̅͒͐̄̃̒̄̌̒̽̃̔͛́̐̏͂̈́̎̋̿̔͂̀͊̔̊̑̾͂̕̕̕͘̚͜͟͟͜͠e̸̛̲̥͓͍̮̦̣̗͆̉͆͢͜͡ ̷̵̶̧̨̨̞̥̠͍̪̜̰̘͇̟̠̮̦͕͙̳̫̬̺̼̗̮̱̪͓͉̩̥̑͒̓͑͆̍͛̒̿͂̋̓́̉̈́͒͊͆̓̓̽̂̾͋͗͘̚̕̚͘͜͜͜͞ͅs̟̞̫͔̖̤̘̜̠̓͆́̔́͂͂̚a̴̢̤̝̯̻̱̓̾͐͋̿͗̕m̺̻̮̌͊̏͗̏͂͡ͅͅę̶̶̷̶̨̡̨̛̣͈̙̖̙̖̟̗̞͍̻̭̭̗̹̠͈̥͇̳̻̙͈̟̘̤̫̲͈̯̮̩̦̗̣̲̤̺̻͖̓͋̾̌̃̃͋̒̾͒̒̒͗̎̀̋̆͛͆͊̏̆͌̎͛̏̃̕̚̕͢͝͠ͅ ā͍͉̙̺̹͔̜̂̎̆͐̐̏͢n̸͇̫̹͈͕̺̓͆̍̓͐̒̏̿̋y̷̸̷̴̴̧̡̛͔͓̤͈̼̣̮̪͔͉̳̭͇̩͈̟̝̦̹͍̩̝̜̤̥̝͓̳̫͔͓͙̝̺̪̣̬̜̦̰̏̈́͋͗̓͆̍̇͌͋͛́͗̋͑̐̏̋̒͌̃͐͗̒̇̉̒̇̿̆̕͘̕͘̚͘͜͟͠͠ḿ̷̸̴̴̡̧̨̧̧̛͔͚͈̗̜̩̲͉͖̮͕̩͔̱̩̭͔̙̲͈̬̞̖̜͈̲̞̗̭̑͑͆̄̆̿̒̐̒͊̀̂̽̇̓͊́̿̈́̎̊̎̏͒̓̓̅͆͛͘͘͜͟͢͠͡͝͠ȍ̺̙̻͔̗̋͛͆̆ř̶̡̛̼̲̜̼͓̇͂͌̕̕̕͠ͅẻ̺̬̜̜̖͓̱͖̝͐͋͋͐̈́̍͂̓,̶̛͉̮̝̠͉́̇̇̈́̒͂̅̉͜͝ ̷̸̵̧̛̣͉̺̗̗͈͔̰̘͕̗̺͈̺̦̰̱͖̦̯̦̯͈̹͙̃́͛̀͑͌̋̆̑͋͊̅̀͊̆͒͂͑͒̕͘͢͟͡ͅͅͅa̶̴̴̢̢̛͉̬͖̻̫̟̹̯͙̠͍̭̥͎̣̼̠̥̣̝̲̼̻̫͇͔̩͍͍͒͛̃̀̈́͗͆͋̅͆̂̋͌̀̓͆͐̐̂̒͗̽̇͛̑̈́̾̂̾̓̀̀̌̕͘͟͜͜͡͞ͅn̵̵̶̡̡̢̨̛̛͇̙̭̬̗̙̱̗̼̱̩̮͍̲̝̭̤̠̙̞͙̦̱̬͕̯̙̘̫̓̅̈́̂͂̃̏̀̋̉̽̈͌̾́̊̎͒͐̊̐̇̃̈́̎̈̅̈́̏̏̆̍̕͘͘͢͢͟͟͜͞͠͠͠d̮̻̹̤̪̘̪̪̦̐̑͌̉̇͢ ̷̵̵̨̢̛̖͙̹̫̮̥̠̹͈̣̲͔͓͇̗̦̺̭͓̣̦̼̺͗̾̓̅̊̓̄̏̑̋̈́̐̆͒̑̏͗͌̾̌͐̇̉̓̌̚͜͟͢͞y̶̷̶̵̧̧̧̢̛̛̛̪͚̦̗̭̦̤̘̣̟̩͔͍͇͎͖͕̥̦̞̞̯̦̟̠̱̘̜̱͙͍̱̟͋̋̌̑͌̐͗̔̉̽̀̐͌͆̈͒̽͋̿̿͐̎̒̈́͂͂̕͘̕̕̚̚͟͠͠͝͠ͅo̧̥̜̹̜͉̦̯͒͛̆̍̊͜͞͞u̵̶̢̢̧̺͓̘̩͈͔͎͖̦̮̰̝͇̰̯͕̩̥̮͈̺͇̱̤͔̤͖͚̲̎̉̀͐̏̃̊͛̇̆̅̋͋͗͌́͒̾͂͗̊̑̓̆̈́̊̏͗͑̒͢͢͠͞͠͝ͅ'̵̨̧̡̫̯̫̳̻̓̽̉͒̈́͘͟v̶̴̴̧̡̡̡̧̢̦̘͍͕̪̰̦̤̳̭̪̲̬̬̰͇̱͓͕̣͎͙̹̩̝̘͉̣̟͚̩̖͎͎̽̋̽̑̃̐͆̓̏͐̊̏̇̒̽̾̏͌̂̊͑̄͊́̎̃͐̄̏̿̏̇̓͛͛͆̕̚͜͡͞͠e̲̻͓̱̣̹̩͕͊̑̈͊͒̅̅͜ s̛̮̙̘̩̝̤̓͛̊̃̌͐̀̉͘ͅë̴̶̴̷̢̧̨̧̡̡̝̱͓̠̖̯̱̜͇̱̬̹̺̠͓̞̠̼̜̙̮̘̼̪͍̫͕̯̟͔̥̊̉͋̉̂́̃͌̃́̈̔͛̽̏̎̀̒̌̋̍̓͋̃͆̑̄̔̎̚̚̕͢͝͞͠͝͞ê̷̡̛͇͍̙͋̂͛̎̅͘͜n̨̧̡̛̰̼̈̄́͊̃͞͞ͅ t̷̸̴̸̡̧̡͖̬̙̳͈̲̤̘͖̮̬̱̹͓̦͓̥̹͙͉̭͕̗͚̜͚͖̳̙̻̹͕̞͓̼̭̰̀̂͋̊͒̐̄͐͌͐̇̉̅͌̓͑̋̓̽̄̉̌̅̈́̃̕̕͟͜͜͟͡͝͝͠ͅh̸̴̸̴̨̧̡̢̛̛̪͚̗̳̥̻͍̥͎̯͉͖̰̤̞̥̹̦̤̭̩̫͓̼͍̱͎̥̗͛͛̈̆̏̔̽͋͌̈͋̓̎̅̌͑̉͐͑̑̓̎̅̎͛͂̕̕͘̚̚͜͟͢͞͡͝͡͠͝ͅą̵̵̶̨̡̧̨͖̲̗͔̤̣̞̥̣͇̰̲̮͙̱̻̼̗̤̠̩͕̪̫͙̲͚̰̞̮͇̫͖̥̺̹͂̒̍̃̅́͑̔̄̓͆͗̈̌̌̋̊͐͊̆̎́̎̉̓̌͑͗̚̚̕̚͠͝͞͡͡t̡̛̤͇̤͚̤̤͒̃̋̔̍̀̒̓͟͜͝ͅ,̶̡͕͈̬̩̼͐̏̍̆̈́͢ ̴̶̷̢̧̡̛̛͓̳̪̭̣̻͚̪̺̯͇̺͍̠̗̰̘͚̞̫̭̟͎̖͋͌̃̿̂͋̾̀̃̏̐̓̾̇͑͆̋̔͊̂͋͐̇̓͐̾͊͛͘̕͢͟͟͝͡͝͝r̷̨̢̮̭̩̦̭̺͉̂̀́̒̃͐̌̕ͅi̶̛̪͓̳͙͕̣͓͐̔͌̋̅͐͞ģ̶̸̶̸̡̢̡̤̣̹̱̻̤͚͖̮̹̘̰̘̹̠̯͓̱̪̦̳͙͉̬̦̻̥͓̣̔́͂̏̄͌̅͌̌̎̀̾͋̅͋͑̽́̈́̆̍̐̀̉͑̕͜͢͡͠͡͞ḩ̵̧̧̧̨̡̛̖̫͈̣̞̤̦̟̟̺͚̼͈͎̼̼̯͈͓͈̫̲͚͈͈̊̊̃̔͆̐̾̎̍̌̎̿̀͂͒̎̈̃̌̍͊̃̒͟͜͟͞ͅṭ̦̺̯̝̏̈͂͌̾?̷̷̵̨̛̥̪̬̣͉͉̫̫͙̘̘̤̙͓̖̠̹͓̖͓̮̩͉͎̬͈̖̪̲͚̖͓̖̙̞͉͙̦̍̿̉̓́̔͆͒̏̊́̉͊̐̌͊̾͑͐͐̈͌͛̀̋̿͋̇͊̃̑͛̕̚͢͟͟͟͡͡͠͝͠͡ͅͅ." They spoke, their voice sounding more akin to a computer than a human. Ford couldn't even begin to interpret their words.

".  
.  
"B̛̼̗̤͇͉͍̼͒̐̎̉̍̐͢͝͞ų̶̶̵̸̶̡̛̹̱̗̜̮̰̳͙͔̹̥̫̥͈̫̼̮̙͔̟̦̣̦̮͖̗̲̳̤̉̒͆̾͊̑͗̾̄͊̋̽̎͆̑͋̀̓̄̋̎͋̃̀̋̅̂̚̚͟͢͞͞͞t̴̷̨̢̧̟̪̻̫̞̤͍͚̹̟͎̠̗̪̗̠̝̩̝̥̮͚̥̃̑̓̊̓̑̄̑̏̐̒̊̏͋͌̄͗̎̂͆͆̊́̀̎͆͘̕͜͟͟͢͢͟͞͠͞ Ì̢̡͖͓̣̙͖̳̜̌̌̄̾̓̒ ̵̵̸͎͚̯̬̣̳̯̥̫̪̗̼̟̘͈̟̑͂͛͂̓̐̈̌̀̌͌̈́̆̊̀̐̅͢͟͢͡͠t̷̬̻̤͉͗̇͐͐́̂̓̕͘͟h̡̗̝̣̹͎̗͚̀̔̈̎į̷̛̟̣̝̭̹͕͑̓͑͂̍͠ņ̢̢̘̪̳̠͎̰̏̄̈́̃̅̍͟ḱ̵͉̳̙̲̠̅̈́͋͊͛͠ Ï̶̴̢̨̡̨̡̛̦͈̹̙̬̹̝̣̺̜̖͕̲͎̭̲̘͈̻̪͕̩̯̩̫͈̤̟̭͒̃̀͒̓̋͊̓̍̀̏͐̌̄́̅̆̏̎͒͑̽̐͑̇̏͒͛̌͗̀͊̎͒̿͊̽͑̍̌̄̃̕͘̕̚͢͜͢͟͢͝͝͞ ̶̨̧̛̪̤̱̭̹̲̲̤͓̳͈̰͉̘̥͎̯̦̖̫͙̹̰̗̫̹̿̇͗̌̐̑͑̋̊̋̓̌́̍̉͋̎̋͂͑̒̅͑̊́̐͐͆̃͟͟͡͠l̸̯̬̝͛̍͊̋̒̽̅͒͑̚͜͢i̡͚̝̟̖̖̪͒̽̈̎ķ̵̷̴̵̧̧̧̢̨̢̡̡̮͙̘̭̹̫͇̫̟̹̯͔̘̻̟̻̯̳̙̰̳͕̟̞̼̥̳̮̻̜̻̿͐̈́̈́̎̋̄̑͗͊̅̑͛͒̈́͛͂͋̇̃̊̉̽̃͊̀͒̄̉̋͆̅̚͜͟͠͡͝͠ͅͅe̷̷̶̸̡̡̨̡̢̛̜̞͖̞̺͓̗͉̜͓̤̺̺̮̼͎̻̙̖͙̣̲̹͆͆̐̓̈́̋͋͋̉̓̈́͌̔̇͆̈͑͗͐̂͆̐̄͑̐̍͑̀̐̄̇̚͘̕͜͜͜͟͝͡͡͞͝ͅ b̞̠̹̙͈̣̲͌̀̈́̽̂͘͜͝e̶̸̴̵̢̛̛̩̲̫̹̘͕͕͉̣̺̥͉̺̫͙̠̟͓͇̪̼̬̳͎͔͗̏̑̈̐͒͑͆̈̿̈́͌͂̍̆̾̋͐͑͑͐͘̕͟͢͞͞͞ĩ̶̸̴̧̢̧̡̛̛̩͕̣̺͈̹̼̩͖̝̯̦͖͓̺̟͎̝̥͚̙̭̘̱̖͖͖̺͇̞̬͙͕̳̮͐̂͆̈́͌͋̎̓̆̂̉̓̄̑̐̓̒̍̓̂̌̏̓͗͛͊̈̎̿̇̃͘͢͟͝͞͡͞͝͠ņ̵͓̖͈̳̅̋̇̑͞ģ̴̴̸̢̡̧̧̛͉̰̼͓̹̞͈̹͙̖̲͖̥̱̱̞̩̪̫̠̼̜͓̗͉͓͉̏̎̆͌̉̀̀̑̋̈̉͂̐̈́͆̎̓͒͛̀̎̿̇͛͋̂̕͜͟͡͞ ḻ͍̞̘̯̝̈́̊͒̿͜͞͝į̸̛̬̞̳͆̍͗͛̒̿̋̓͟͝ķ̴̫̝̬͈̓̀͂̑̏̓e̟̞̗͎̪͔̮̼͑̽̓͆̋̈́̔̒͢͡ ̶̸̸̨̡̞͓̞̮̠̼͎̗̙͔͖̣̻̤̥͕̪̪͉̺͔̘̗̓̒̾̓̓̑̇̉́̂̊̑̐̈́́̆̑̎̐̔̃̓͐̈́̏̌̿̐̕͘̕͢͝͡͠ͅt̛͉͈̣̳̲̓̒̊̉̃̄͂̕͞ͅḣ̶̴̵̸̡̧̛̼̥͈͚̮̮͈̜͚̻̜̺̯͔̟̙͕͇̱͍̫̜͔͙͙̗̘̞͎̼̳͚̼̫͙́̃̾̾͛͒̉̅͊̓͋̉̐̐̉̇͆͛̎̐̓̈́͐͐͌̆̃̍̌̕̕͟͢͝͞ͅį̴͚̰͎̳̳̰͛̓͋͐̍̊͘͞s̶̛̭̘̯͙̒̾̐̄͋̃̀͜͠.͕̗̜̰͓͚͖̮́́̒͒́̏̋̓͒͝ I̗̮̻͎̖̓̔̾͞͝'̶̝̮̫̯͎̠̤͖̘̓͊̏̀̃͌͜v̢̹̮̯̘͛̒̆̃̽̔̆̑͟͜͟͝ę̶̡̧̘̣̱̯̽͊̂͊̽̈ ğ̴̷̵̴̢̢̨̧͎͈̺̪̳͉̫̤̳̖͕̼͖̱̥̪͚̬̳̪̭̫͓͕͕͇̦̬͒̃̋̾̌̔̍̌̈̏̓̾͂͑̃̈̎̇̽̎̎̑̓̆͘͟͝͠o̷̫̩̪̥͇̘̖̱̰͂̒͛̈͆̋͋̍̀ͅţ̷̸̸̸̸̡̧̛͚͍͓̩̙̥̺͖̠͓͕̙̜͍̝̦̫̘͍̝͎̞͓̣͇̝͈̥̬̬͔͉̳̲̏̇̅̏̉̄̇̿͋̈́͐̋͆̉̽̂̌̉̏̍̐͑̓̌̄̓̆̈́͆̓͒̄̚͘͘̕̚͘̕͟͢͟͠ͅͅ ä̢͎̝̏̍̈̀̇͟͜ ̸̴̶̧̧̺̣̜̦̰̯̘̼͉̗͉̟͎̭̞̬̗͇̜͓͔̭̣͚̼̥̞̯̉̈́̋̎͌̀͒̄͛͌͆̇͆̉̅͂̈̓͐͐̂͑͘͢͢͜͜͞͠͠͝n̸̶̢̡̡̢̡̨̨̥̭̤̪͔̞̭̱͍͔͉͉̞̣̻̮̬̹̖͙̞̬̜̼͉͎̠̮͋̀̂̓͆̀̈́̓͗̂͂͒̅̒̊̇̄̓͌̀̄̏͊͛̉̈́̏́̃̾̉͑̀̒̄͊͘͘͜͜͝͠͝ë̷̵̵̴̡̡̡̛̼͇̦͉͖̗̰̜̘̲̩̤̣̟̞̞͈͉̠̯̠͇͚̜̦̺͙͍̪̐̎͌̅̃̓̋̓̓̈́͂͋̔͒̏̃͌̐̈́͆̓͑̈̒̉͘͡͠w̴̧̨̼̳̲̖̞̰͕̟͂̃͐̂̓͐̓̑ n̺̬̮̼͉͉̆͂̂̆́͒̔̍͡͞ͅa̷̛̳̳͎̣̮̞̰͋͊̾̉̌͘ͅm̧̛͖͔͓̹͖͍̖̌͗̽͛̐̃̀̏͟͝ë̩̘̩̟̩̞̬͍͇̂͐̌͘͜ ̵̶̨̡̛̛̰̦̲͇̠̳̪̩̬̺̩̜̪̜͙̻̩̬̼͔͍̝͓̹̘͖̰̭͒͂̽͌̀͆̅̽̂͆̔̍̏̍̇̉͘̕̚͟͢͢͞͡͠͡͝ǎ̡͎̫̩̬̟̱̌͊͗̋̚͢͝n̠̭̭̜̭̈́̈̍͗͗́̊͞ḑ̠̪͖͎͍̠̞̐̆̔̄̅̒͜͢ e̡̺͈͇̫̝̪̺̾͊̈̀̚͡͞v̴̵̷̸̡̡̛͕̲̳̩̟̗̥͔̝̜̯̝̩̝̪̲̩̟̹͔̟̜̗̩̟̗͇̰̭͉͕͙̌̈́̾͗͑̿͒̍̉̃̑̓̓̆̑́̌͋̂͊͋̿̅̓̄̆̕̕͘͢͟͡͞ͅͅͅe̸̢̗̦̤̭̯͉̋́̎̉͆̚r̸̛̜̯̖̪̥̲̈̔͗̆̄͜͡y̢͎͈͂͆̓̆̆̓̾̄͢ͅt̸̢͎͎̱̬͋͗̇̄͟͢͡h̶̬͈̩̩͚̮͈̿̉͐̋́͊̏̅͜͟i̷̩̘̝͍̘͍̲͖͌̃́̉̂͆̚n̵̶̵̢̧̨̛̰̙͉̘͍̦̳͚̙͙̺̜̥̠͔̤̱̳̹̠̠̳̼̲̳̥̮̝͌̎͛͌͒̉̍̾́̔͛͆̈͋͋͂͆̽͆̀̑͌̔͆͑̾̄͢͜͞ǵ̷̡̛̙͕̟̟̣͕̪͇͋̊̐̅̉͛̚,̸̢̧̹͔̗̦̤͈̜͙̻̣͍̘̥͇̰̩̘̹̦̗̩͇͓͓̜̮̰̭̐͑́̐̈͋́̎͌́̐́̅̈́̏̑͐̃̐̂͋̓̑͘̚̚͘͟͠͝ a̞̮͚̣̠̦͂̏̐̌̄̾̔̿͞ņ̵̷̵̴̢̧̛̻̝̳͈̙͔̘̺̤̟͉̲̫̣̰̤̭̜̙̫͎͚̞͇͉̈̓̄̿̅̃͛̂͂͐̃̒̆͌̒̀͆̈́̈̍̃̍̕͜͟͞͡͞ͅḑ̶͓̦͓̳̤̤͎͕͊͂̔̃̑ͅ Ị̸̢̧̯̗̮̳̪̲͇̑͗͑͆̇ c̸̢̧͖͈̓͑̉͆̿̒̈́̌͘͝ͅą͉̠̹͆̒̒̔̿͌̏̓͟͜ń̵̶̶̴̷̵̡̨̡̯̳̭̲̮̪͈̳̥̣͖̖̠͔̝̳̫̞̗͓͉̙͔̞̗̜̤̘̈̊̾̃̑̏̍̾̌̉̂̏̆͗͋̇͒̓̔͆̔̉̄̔̉̀̽̓́̚̚̚͢͡͡͞͞͝ͅ c̵̘͇̥̙̰̫͒̄̆͐͊̔̑̌͝h̵̢̹̬̺̭͓̫̞̔̈̓̋̔̀a̺̝͓͓̣͑̆̑̋͂̚͞ņ̶̵̸̸̧̛̛̱̯̠̳̙̲̰̰̜̝͍͕̹̼͎͖̫̼̬͖̣͕͓͇͚̻͇̊̅̇̓̽͐̂͌̊̾͐̄̽̍͂̽̄͂͒̃̑̔͋̋̌̆̈́̚͘͜͜͝͠͞͞͞ǧ̵̶̶̶̡̢̡̨̧̧̢͍͔͎̭̙̖͈͖̬̰͖̟̪̤̪͓̘͕̖̰͇͍̣͙̜̉̏́͑͌̂͑͐͌̌̃̈́͒̔̐̽͊͒̑̈́͘͘̚͢͜͟͞͝ͅę̷̵̶̶̡̨̡̢̡͍̜̼̩̞͎̣̭͔̳̖̯͉̥͔̟̠͈̱̟̝͓̩͙̻͚̟̹̱̫͉̠͛̀̉͌̅̆̍̾͐͗͛̽̍̒̽̔͌͋͂̋͂͆͌̾͂͐̊̋̔̔͑̔̎̂͛̚͘͘͟͟͠͠ ̷̸̵̢̧̫̞̮̙̹̠̖͉̗̬͎̼̼̖̳̞̗͕̙̪̪͔̲̗̻̆̇̿̃͗͗͂̈̓̑͑̈́̌̈͒̽̾̅̉͘͞͠͞ͅȩ̴̢͙̠͈͇̝̮̻̐̔͗̊͋͛͑̓͝v̴̷̷̴̡̛̱̰̭͔̞͈̱̹̯͇̳̦̩͕̦̫̼͙͎͓̯͚̜̣͙̜̻̘̰̄́̆̿̾̈́̈́̒̈̌̓̐̅̍̃͗̏̇͐̉̌̽̌̕͞͠͡e̮̠̰̠̞͋̿̀̽̄ŗ̵̸̸̷̛͈̺̹̖̪̮̳͙̝̜͉͍̟̱̥̱̲̖̝͇̳̳̬̟̝̟̙̘̱̖͚̼͍͉̯̟̦̿͐̈́̎͛̄͋̉̐̽͛̇̅͂͒̆̑̍͌̐͊͑̃͌̏̕̚͢͢͝͠͡͡ỷ͎̮̪̲̮͙̻̩͐́̏̕t̡̨͚̳̗̯̻̯̮͖͒̃͗̉̽͆̚ẖ̵͓̘̻̩̓̇͒͑̕͟͞i̷̢̹̫̱͖̥͉̎͐͆̏̌̆̐̕͡ṋ͓̪̖̩͓̍̒͋̓̓̎̏͟͡g̶̩̣̫͔̤̯̫̣̾̆́̇̃̃͒̅͐̚ ǹ̛̫͇̜̥̪͍̜͚͌͒͢͡o̢̙̪͍̽̇́͛̾͂͘͟w̷̨̡̛̼̞̱̠̆̂̐̅͋̆̚͟͡!"  
.  
.." 

_What is this?_ , he wondered, trying to listen in but only hearing rhythmic nonsense like a contorted, corrupted melody. It was like radio static, undulating between his panicked gasps. The figure walked forward, still covered in shadows and obscured, blurry and strangely translucent. Ford could see their wide, unnatural grin that gave him a chill, smiling despite everything. Again they trudged, cornering Ford. He swore there was a laugh as environment shifted and changed into neon colors for another split second, returning to normal like a sudden glitch. The figure then began to attempt to speak again.

  
."W̴̻̝͇͕̼̑̈́̽͊͘h̷̢̲̮̤̠̻́̐̆̅̔͝ą̵͙̤̪̫̪̘͉̗͂̀̾̅̌̎͐͂͘͟͞ṫ̶̛̪̖̜͙͖͆̿̚͜͡ ą̡̩̖͓̭͈̝̰͓̋̏̅̅̊̚͡͠ŗ̸̧̛̥̖̌͑̌͗͆͟͟͢ė̡̗͙͖̝̻̟̗̺̒͛͐̓͐͋̔̌͞ ỳ̧̛̼͎̼͕̱̲̂̇͐͛͢͢͟ô̡̮͈̟̬̤̙͈̹̋͑͑̏͢ų̷̯̟̼͚̻̼̃͑̌̔̈́͞ e̦̳͓̥̬̪̘͙͂͗̏̓̾̌͢ͅv̸͓̭̥͖͇̝͇̖̝̼̌́̎͐̂͒̀͡ę̵͍̱͎͖̿̃͗͐̈͑͗̽̓n̡̲̤̰̝̓̇̑̀͜͢͜ d̴̳͕̱̖̪͈̣͍̎̐̎͊͐͘͢͡o̪̭̼̰̟͍̭̽̂̆̽̾̚͠ͅi͉͉̭̗̥̔̎̈̆̚n̷̨̼̩͈̹̓̽͊̿̅̋͐̾͌g̷̨̛̺̣͈̺̗͚̈́͊͗͊̌̕̚͜ i̶̧̡̞͈̭̹̺͉̝̎͊̄͆̐̒̀ň̵̨̝̞͖͓̈́͆͋͠ ṁ̷̧̡̛̮̮̩̲̺͎̅́̾͘͘͟͝͞ẙ̤̠̲͙͉̞̾͊̓̓͒͊̕͟ ṁ̧̮̹̬̟̆̄̾͊̓̓̚ḭ̴̜̦̗͓̱͖͑̅͂̏̈ͅn̵̛͙̜̺̦̈́̌̈́͋̎͘̚ͅd̶̡̢̮̞̣̲͕͋̏̃̓̅̀͡͞?̶̧̭̰̘̹̺̹̅͐̈̇̀"

 

The words were barely understandable now, but Stanford Pines couldn't stop thinking of the words he believed he'd heard. They were indomitable, gripping to his mind like glue, drowning his soul like a volatile ocean.

_What are you even doing in my mind?_

"Bill?" He whispered, before the gray suddenly erased itself and gave way to the clearing next to the Mystery Shack, filled with tourists and vehicles. Somehow, he was back home again.

He took a breath and looked at everything twice, to double check that this was real. Walking back to the cabin, he tried to decipher the distorted noises of the figure in the realm he'd seen, but nothing came to him. It was a struggle to even try, and he wondered if he'd been daydreaming despite how vivid and tangible that place had seemed. There was nuance and detail in the trees, and the only thing looking unfinished and dreamlike was that person. Already it was nighttime, like the realm had trapped him for more time than he'd known. Either that, or there were more events he couldn't remember, more that he felt he didn't want to know of.

The stars shimmered above, curling into bright constellations. Ford remembered being young and making up his own with Stanley, drawing pictures in a global sky that belonged to only him and his brother. He remembered not thinking anything new about his thoughts and dreams, and how nobody could see inside his mind. Now, he often turned around suddenly just to double check that there wasn't another eye watching, staring, recording. _Nobody's here_ , he'd have to think even if he knew he was lying to himself. There was someone who could see, always, even if it wasn't Bill, even if was just his own anxiety.

Trudging to the oak steps of his home, he strolled among a thin covering of fireflies, covering the dark forests with little green drops of light. They looked like a fluid when the moved together, making waves of luminescence until dawn's light rose. He smiled, still shocked and still denying everything, but remembering that the kids loved to catch fireflies. That's why he did these things anymore, hunting monsters here or finding anything new, for more than discovery now. This town was dangerous even though it was beautiful, like a trap that beckoned and then betrayed. Discovering was now half for science and thrill, and half to protect everyone. After all, the apocalypse happened the last time he was gullible.

When he entered the door, he noticed that Mabel and Dipper, back for the summer, had most likely gone to bed. Soos was probably in his office, but upon going into the living room it was apparent what Stan would be doing until about midnight.

"I may be a duchess," he said in unison with the television, "But I'm also a woman!" Of course. Reruns on Stan's favorite channel.

"Hey, Poindexter," he exclaimed, noticing Ford. "Did you find the monster?"

"No," Ford replied, knowing he was understating. "It was, uh, a little too fast for me."

"Too fast? Huh, that's a first." Stan laughed. "You can't run from being an old man, Ford."

Stanford rolled his eyes. "I suppose."

"Uh, hey, is there something you have to tell me or something? Seriously, you're here pretty late. What happened?"

"I, well..." He didn't know how to phrase this. The demon that had nearly killed the kids, caused Stan's memory to almost be lost forever, and tricked a countless number of people for his scheme was possibly alive. Alive and more terrifying than before. Either that, or the figure he'd seen was even worse than Bill, somebody else. He wasn't sure. How on earth could he tell anyone?

"Stanley?"

"Yeah?"

"Last year, we destroyed Bill Cipher. And I found something."

Stan looked like he'd just seen exactly what Ford had. He was quiet, waiting.

"I found that statue. And I saw something else. I don't know who-"

"Who? You saw Bill? Again?" Stan's voice immediately became aggressive and his hands clenched.

"I don't know," he answered.

Again, the one understandable thing he'd heard back in the realm of Bill's statue repeated in his head.

_What are you even doing in my mind?_

"I don't know," he said again.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! I hope you all liked the first chapter, because this is only the beginning of a lot of crazy stuff. I don't have an update schedule, but I do have the story planned out. There is A LOT to come in this, considering only the first part of the mystery has been shown with this chapter. I also plan for the POV to switch around though it mainly centers on Ford and Dipper, and I also want to mention that some parts are inspired by the Immortal Pines series. Again, thanks and please give feedback (literally anything)! (Also, this begins like A LOT of GF fics so shoutout to like, literally every writer ever)


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